Tales of the Wild West
by Superstyle
Summary: The adventures of America and Pacifica, the personification of the Wild West! Pacifica is a bit mysterious, in that no one really knows if she's a country, or something else entirely, but she and America will have dangerous adventures together anyway!
1. Chapter 1

**Tales of the Wild West**

**Chapter One:**

**Pacifica, the Wild West**

...

* * *

America wandered westward through the vast wilderness on the western slops of the Appalachian Mountains, riding atop a stately pinto with brown hair and white spots. The year was 1755, and America had found himself growing taller by the day. The last time he saw England, he was barely half the height he was now, and had even less strength.

* * *

….

"_Well, I'll be going back home now," said England to a much smaller America. He made his way to the front door of America's house as he said this, and America stopped playing with his toys and turned his head to England._

"_What? Already?" he asked sadly, running up to England and grabbing his jacket. "No, I'm not gonna let you leave!" he cried, "I'm scared to be alone in such a big house! I'll be lonely!" England sighed and bent over to be on eye-level with him._

"_Sorry, kiddo," he began apologetically, "I've felt lonely plenty of times, too, so I know exactly how you feel." America began sniffling, and England put his hand on his head. "You need to grow up and become strong, okay?" said England._

"_Yeah," replied America, nodding once._

….

* * *

America had worked hard since then, establishing trade routs with Canada and some of Spain's colonies, cementing and stabilizing a little internal economy of his own (something that proved to be very hard for him, and he hoped it would get easier from then on), and both fighting and establishing friendships with the Indian tribes.

America smiled, thinking about the reaction England would have the next time they meet, seeing him taller, stronger and more resourceful than before. He knew that England would be surprised, but he hoped that he would be happy, and proud of him. If England would be proud him, than he could finally be proud of himself. Sure, he was still barely a teenager, and wasn't as big or strong as England or the other Europeans, but to grow and increase his strength as much as he did, and as quickly as he did, was sure to impress England. And he was glad that it would.

As his pinto trotted along the uncultivated ground, the wilderness gradually gave way to far more fertile land, and America ordered his horse to stop so he could get a good look. The ground was still uncultivated, but he could already tell that it was better than most of the land east of the Appalachians. He looked up at the trees around him, and the sun shone it's grand rays through the branches and leaves above; a particularly brilliant one landing directly on America and his horse. At that moment, he felt something was different.

He could smell it in the air. A strange, semi-arid quality permeated it as he smelled it's fragrance. He had never known anything like it before. He commanded his horse to gallop forward, and he raced through the increasingly-thinning trees. As the trees dispersed, the weather became dryer and warmer. A strange new feeling flushed over him, and he felt like there were butterflies in his stomach. And he knew why.

He was entering into a strange new land, full of danger and adventure. The lands that England spoke vaguely about, but knew vary little of. Lands that were not tamed or explored. Images of him and England setting out into this frontier, exploring and facing dangers together rushed through his mind.

Gradually, the trees completely dissipated and his pinto slowed to a stop, as if it too felt the same way he did. America looked onto vast stretches of hills and prairies, and far in the distance, he saw a great river flowing southward. The air was dry and warm, and the sun shown hotly down onto his face, more so then it did east of Appalachians.

After a few moments, a hot wind blew over him and on his face and neck, almost burning him. But instead of retreating back into the woods and escaping the hot sun and winds, he stood his ground. He didn't know why, as England always warned him about hot environments (which explained why he was so pale), and he had always done exactly what England had told him to do. But this was different, somehow. The wind, the sun, and land had all awoken something within himself, and he wasn't about to run away from it.

As if knowing that America would not retreat back to the east, the hot wind subsided, and degenerated into a warm, pleasing breeze. As it did so, America heard the voice of a girl speaking to him from behind.

"Who are you?" asked the strange young girl. America turned around to see who was speaking. He saw a young lady standing barefoot before him, who looked to be about the same age as he. She was wearing a well-worn pair of brown pants and a light, ragged white tunic without any sleeves, stained with dirt and mud. She had clear, moderately tanned skin, and bright sky-blue eyes, which complimented her long and curly, sandy-blonde hair, similar in tone to America's own sort of sandy-blond hair, not as light or flaxen as England or France's. Her hair was still a little lighter than his own, though, and it shined vividly in the sunlight, as did her eyes.

America was immediately taken back by her beauty, even though she had smudges of dirt on her face and appendages, and dressed similar to a savage. In fact, she was even holding a spear in her right hand, with a stone-end, and a stone axe was tied to the left side of her waste by a thick cord. America cleared his throat and regained his composure after looking at her for several moments, not saying anything. She took a step forward.

"Hey, I asked you who you were!" she exclaimed, and America couldn't tell if she was scared or angry.

"I... am Alfred F. Jones," he began, using his human name instead of his real name, as he thought that she was just a normal human, "and I'm a colonist!"

The girl looked at him funnily, and America returned her look. Something was very strange about this girl, he thought. Sure, he knew that there were other Indians and such in the western frontier, but this girl didn't look like one of them. She was... well, white, like he and the Europeans were. She even had blonde hair, like him and most of the European countries that he had met. Was she from some sort of white tribe? Were all of the native tribes west of the Appalachians white? It would be very strange if that was indeed the case, and even stranger if it wasn't, now that she had shown up. He decided to start asking her some questions, but before he could, she starting ask him.

"You're a... colonist?" she asked inquisitively, "What's a 'colonist?'"

America blinked once at her, still confused as to who she was. He tried to explain.

"Well, a colonist is someone from a colony, which is a like a community of people, almost like a province, and a group of them together almost makes a country" he explained, thinking in the back of his head how he wished to one day be a full-fledged country of his own, once England granted him independence, of-course. The girl blinked once at him, in the same way America did at her and with the same odd look he gave.

"Oh... a colony is like a province?" the girl began asking, "I see... well, I don't know what a province is, but... well, where is this colony?"

America grinned proudly at the thought of his thirteen colonies, and proceeded to answer.

"You can't see it from this far away, but there is a mountain range to the east of us," he began, pointing in the direction of the east, "and on the other side lay thirteen colonies, from one of which I come from."

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, "That sounds weird, but I never knew that such things existed!" she finished, her eyes sparkling with what America guessed was wonderment. He was still confused as to who she was, and proceeded to find out.

"So, what's your name?" asked America, trying to sound casual and cool, in the same way that England did when he was speaking with other countries. Or at least, that's how he spoke to them in America's presence.

The girl looked confounded. "My name?" she asked uneasily, "Well, I... uh... it's kind of a weird name..." she said sheepishly, and blushed. As she blushed, the warm breeze around them became stronger and warmer, and picked up some dust. America coughed as the dust blew into his face, but the girl seemed just fine in all of it, barely even noticing it, and still blushing. The breeze continued to pick up, and America finished coughing and cleared his throat again.

"It's alright if your name is kind of weird," America began, trying to ease her apparent embarrassment,

"A lot of other countr- I mean people, think I'm a bit strange, but it doesn't bother me too much. Besides, someone as pretty as you shouldn't be- uh... I mean... uh..." America stuttered, not meaning to say that last part. The girl's eyes widened slightly at him, and she smiled a little, blushing even more now. America blushed deeply as well, trying to explain himself, but found himself tongue-tied. As she giggled at his odd antics, he realized something.

"Would she have been able to approach me like she did..." America thought to himself, "... if she wasn't like me?"

America tried remembering his own discovery, thinking back to the time England, France, and Finland approached him...

* * *

….

"_Hey Finland, is that the kid?" asked France excitedly as the three of them walked up to a tiny America, who was exploring the area around a small bush._

"_Y-Yes, that's him," confirmed a nervous Finland. England couldn't contain his excitement any longer._

"_I knew it!", declared England, "I get the feeling he's one of us!"_

….

* * *

"Hey, are you okay?" asked the girl curiously, snapping America out of his remembrance.

"Uh, yea, I'm... fine," he answered clumsily, "Say, have you ever met any other people out here before?" he asked finally. The girl blinked at him again.

"People? Well, yes, I've seen them before. But none of them really talked to me, and I was always confused as to why," she answered, thinking about it as she did. America almost gasped, but controlled himself, trying to keep an air of coolness.

"Wait, so you mean, that I'm the first person to ever talk to you?" he asked impatiently, excited. The girl shook her head.

"Actually, there have been two other people that have talked to me besides you," she explained, "And they were both kind of odd." America perked up.

"Odd? How so?" he asked.

"Well, the first one told me that his name was Francis Bonnefoy, but then when he found out my name, he said that his real name was... uh, France, or something..." explained the girl. America's eyes lit up, realizing that he must have just met another country! And one that lived so close to him, not far away like England and France and the others did. The girl continued on to tell of the second person she met.

"And then, the next person I met was pretty weird too. He did the same thing that France did: telling me that his name was one thing, learning what my name was, and then revealing that he had a different name," she finished.

"Who was this second man?" asked America.

"He said his real name was Spain," she began to answer, "but the first name he gave me, and I remember it well because it was so weird, was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Weird, huh?"

"Ah, so Spain and France have both met you, then..." said America thoughtfully, confusing the girl.

"You know them?" she asked.

"Yes, I do. Or rather, I know France fairly well, but I've only met Spain a couple of times," he explained.

"Oh," remarked the girl, not knowing what else to say. Her eyes wandered around a bit, before fixing back onto America, who was grinning oddly at her.

"What?" asked the girl, starting to blush slightly again.

"You must be a country, right?" asked America brightly, becoming excited. The girl looked at him strangely, looking him up and down.

"Well, you have the potential to be a country, anyway, like me," he thought aloud. The girl realized that America must be like the other two men she met... and her.

"So then, what is your name?" America asked, beaming, "It doesn't matter if it's weird like you said it was, I really want to know!"

The girl blushed slightly again, looking to the ground, but then, after thinking about it, she suddenly gained more confidence and looked straight at him.

"I'm the Wild West!" she exclaimed proudly, pointing her thumb at herself and smiling brightly, "But you can also call me Pacifica."

America blushed slightly at her glowing countenance, and smiled back.

"Awesome! I'm America!" he exclaimed energetically. He walked over to her and held his hand out for her to shake. She looked down at his outstretch hand quizzically.

"What is this?" she asked awkwardly.

"This is a handshake! You take your hand which is opposite of mine and we put them together, and then shake them up and down! Or any direction, if you want!" he explained to her, beaming the whole time, "It's what friends do when they meet each other!" he finished. Pacifica blushed and stuttered slightly.

"... Friends? We're friends now?" she asked weakly.

"Of-course!" America answered, now glowing the same way she did when she told him his name. She held out her right hand and put it slowly into America's right, and he gently began to shake their hands for her, showing her how to do it. She caught on quickly and the two shook hands for another several moments before stopping. Pacifica smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, that's pretty fun, in a weird way. So... now we're friends?" she asked.

"Yea! That's right!" America confirmed, "And I look forward to hanging out and getting into adventures and stuff with you!"

Pacifica blushed slightly, and America took her over to his horse, who was waiting patiently for his master to return.

"I probably won't be able to see you very much for a while," said America, "as my thirteen colonies back east still require my attention. But for now, I some free time! So let's ride on my horse together, and explore the land a little before I have to go!"

Pacifica, who had never seen a horse before, stood in awe at it's height and muscles, and America saddled himself back on top of it. He held out his hands toward her, and she let him pick her up under her shoulders and he lifted her on top of the horse, setting her behind himself.

"You'll need to hold on tight, Miss Pacifica," said America gentlemanly to his newfound friend. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his torso, making him blush a little before commanding his horse to gallop off to the hills and prairies of the west.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yay for childhood friends. :) I liked writing this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy reading it. Please let me know what you think! :)

He're a quick biography for Pacifica, aka the Wild West:

...

**Name:** Pacifica, or the Wild West

**Human Name:** Mary-Jane Cassidy (Not final yet, which is why I didn't put it in this chapter. If you have a name you like better, please suggest it, and I'll consider it! Make sure it's cowgirl-ish, but not too much so.)

**Eye Color:** Bright, vivid Blue

**Hair Color and Type:** Light sandy-blonde, and curly

**Age:** Unknown, but she has only matured enough to be a teenager so far, at least in this chapter.

**Personality:** As she gets older, Pacifica develops a sunny, energetic, and competitive personality, and is very sweet to those she cares about. She loves the outdoors and usually camps out under the stars. She is an ace with rifles and revolver handguns, and is a wily and formidable foe. She is adept at forest, desert, and mountain survival and can often be found fighting grizzly bears and stags with her bowie knife, which was made and given to her by America. She particularly good at tracking, and can skin a full-grown elk in less than ten minutes, to the amazement of all who know her.

When she gets angry or embarrassed, a warm, dry wind sometimes surrounds the immediate area, often times kicking up dust and dirt. She usually has a cheerful and sunny demeanor about her, even in the midst of extreme danger; a trait which has rubbed off on America, which explains why he is often the same way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tales of the Wild West**

**Chapter Two:**

**Bad Influence...?**

...…...

* * *

Fast-forward to the year 1755: the beginning of the Seven Years War (also known as the French and Indian War). The Seven Years' War was a global military conflict between 1754 and 1763, involving all of the great powers of the time and affecting North and Central America, Europe, the West African coast, India and the Philippines.

Most of the fighting between France and England in continental North America ended in 1760, however the war in North America officially ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris on February 10, 1763, and war in the European theater of the Seven Years' War was settled by the Treaty of Hubertusburg on February 15, 1763. England offered France a choice of either its North American possessions east of the Mississippi or the Caribbean islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique, which had been occupied by the British. France chose to cede Canada. The economic value of the Caribbean islands to France was greater than that of Canada because of their rich sugar crops, and they were easier to defend. England, however, was happy to take Canada, as defense was not an issue, and he already had many sources of sugar. Spain, which traded Florida to Britain to regain Cuba, also gained Louisiana, including New Orleans, from France in compensation for its losses.

While all of this happening, throughout the entire course of the war, America had been meeting up with Pacifica on a regular bases, and she, along with various Indian tribes, taught him to be a survivalist; to be able to live in the wilderness for long periods of time. However, as the years went by, Pacifica grew to be more daring, wild, and seductive, and often convinced America to leave his house and go on dangerous adventures with her in the Appalachian mountains and the regions just west of them. Even though England had written several letters to America to tell him to stay in and near his house during the war, to keep him as safe as possible, America gave into her pleadings and almost always left with her for several weeks at a time, and all the while, the ever present danger of the Seven Years War loomed near the American colonies.

"Oh, come on, America," pleaded Pacifica, standing just below the window to America's bedroom, "England won't know. How could he? He's never around, anyway! You've said so yourself!"

America frowned slightly at the thought of not seeing England for several years, but his frown quickly turned into a slight smirk.

"Oh, yes, that is true, I suppose, but what if he makes a surprise visit while I'm gone?" asked America uneasily. He didn't want to disappoint England, even if he never has visited in several years. The years immediately following his last visit dragged on and were very lonely for America, who didn't have any other countries to keep him company. The only other one was Canada, but he lived so far north and was under France's rule, so he never saw him. The lonesome years finally reached an end on that day when he ventured out into the wild west for the first time, and met Pacifica. Even though she was rowdy and a trouble maker, she was still a loyal friend, and America's loneliness always seemed to disappear when they were together.

He looked up to England more than anyone, but he couldn't just sit around and wait for his promised return while doing nothing with no one. Pacifica was the only other friend he had, and she was loyal and fun to be around. So the least he could do was be a loyal friend to her, especially when she and her lands in the west brought out the adventurous, wild side of himself; a side of himself that he had grown to love and wanted to experience more and more of.

"Oh, alright, then," grinned Pacifica, "I'll just have to go have fun all by myself, then."

She turned and began walking away, but America quickly yelled out a 'Wait!' and rushed down the stairs and out the front door of his house. As he ran down the steps of the front porch, he saw Pacifica standing there with his horse by her side, waiting for him. Before America could ask her where she got his horse, she smiled brightly at him, and her smile always had a way of making him stop asking questions, even before he started to.

"Lets go, partner," she quipped with a slight twang that America had never heard anyone speak with before, and he hopped on the horse without qualms, lifted her up to sit behind him as she often did, and the horse galloped off down a winding old dirt trail leading into wilderness and adventure.

"America," said Pacifica as they began this latest journey, "You shouldn't worry about England too much." America kept his eyes on the trail in front of them, which was soon to end.

"What do you mean?" he asked without really thinking about it.

"Well, it's just that he's never around... and, well, as you know, I've met France and Spain, and..."

"And?"

"It's just, if England is anything like them, he doesn't care too much about you or the colonies. He only cares about what you can do for him, and if you start getting too strong, he'll try to hold you back."

America stopped his horse, and looked back at her, eying her up and down.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know England like I do," he said bluntly and turned his face back to face the trail. Pacifica eyed him back curiously, noting that he hadn't commanded the horse to gallop forward again yet.

"... I guess you're right. Just forget about it..." she finally said weakly.

"Done and done," answered America, and he commanded the horse to gallop forward again.

* * *

And so America continued to grow up, becoming stronger and more capable on his own, until finally England returned. He stood just outside of America's house, and observed how it was still well-kept and how several additions have been added to it. England smiled and made his way up the front porch, which seemed to have been recently painted with a fresh coat of white paint. As he approached the door, he held his fist up to knock, but stopped and smiled, deciding to just let himself in and surprise America, like he always did before.

"He seems to have done well for himself," said England to himself, "but he couldn't have changed to much. It will be good to see him again, though, after fighting such a tiring war."

England opened the door and stepped in, and hung his coat on the wall next to door, the same place he had hung it many times before. He slowly made his way to the living room, and, seeing that no one was there, decided to loudly announce his return.

"I've come to see you again, America! Just like I promised!" belted England loudly, hoping that America had listened to him to stay near his house all this time. The second after he had spoken, he could here the thundering of footsteps on a nearby stairwell, and before he knew it, America was standing right in front of him. And he was taller than him.

"Howdy, England!" greeted America enthusiastically. Finally, after all this time, England had returned! England, seeing that America was now actually taller than him, blinked and staggered for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

"Huh? Wait... you..." began England, fumbling with his words as America waited ecstatic for him to say something.

"...You grow so fast!" England blurted, finally getting over his initial shock. America just smiled broadly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Yea! Well, it's great to see you again, England! I did as much as I could while you were gone, and the colonies are better than ever!" exclaimed America excitedly, "Here, have a seat!"

America led England to a chair near the dining room table and poured some tea for him, setting on the table beside him.

"This is tea that you imported to me some time ago," America explained, "I hope you like it, after such a long journey from your island! Did I mention it's good to see you again?"

England gaped his mouth for a moment, still observing America and comparing him to the small child he last saw over ten years ago. It was hard to believe that America had changed and grown so much in such a relatively short amount of time. He sipped his tea and found that it hadn't aged well, but didn't say anything about it. Instead, he got up and held his right hand out to America. America raised an eyebrow, but extended his right hand and shook England's, wondering why England was being so quiet and acting so strangely. He was worried that he was disappointed. Finally, England began to say something.

"You've done well, America. You've made this old man proud."

"Awesome," was the only word America could say. He pulled England in close and hugged him as hard as he could, and cracking noises emanated from England's body.

"America..." began England, trying to regain enough breath after each word to say the next, "That's... enough! Enough... hugging!"

America let go of him, and as England's feet touched the ground, both of them heard the sound of someone sighing nearby. England turned around swiftly, fearing that France had followed him to pester and make sexual advances on him. What he saw was a young lady, about America's age, dressed in a white dress shirt with a brown, sleeveless vest over it. England blinked at her, having know idea who she was.

"A... girl?" thought England to himself, "And she's in America's house? Just who..." England's thoughts trailed off and he positioned himself so that all three of them could see and speak to each other. As he did so, he looked her over suspiciously, and noticed that she was wearing brown trousers. Trousers. On a woman. He was shocked.

"Who the hell is this?" asked England, pointing at the young woman. America, becoming a little worried, hesitantly began explaining.

"This... is Pacifica. She's my friend."

The girl stepped forward and eyed England up and down, which only made him more paranoid.

"Are you England?" asked Pacifica curiously. England stared at her.

"... Yes? I mean, yes. I am. I suppose America has told you about me?" England eyed America up and down. "Because he hasn't told me about you." Pacifica frowned.

"Oh? Well, maybe if you were ever around, he-"

"Uh! That's okay, Pacifica!" America interjected, "I'm just glad he's back! We should all celebrate!"

Pacifica didn't say any more, but England could tell that something more was going on. He was worried that America would get lonely and try to reach out to another country. But was _she_ another country? And what had America been saying about him that would make her start talking like that?

England sighed, deciding that he should probably speak to America in private, especially considering the news he had brought. And of-course, he would have to have America explain to him who the girl was.

"Hey, America, I need to discuss something important with you. I figure that since you've grown up so much, the least I should do is tell you straight-forwardly what will be happening soon."

America looked almost shocked, but then smiled widely and nodded his head. England had just said he was grown up! Grown up enough to for the two of them to speak to each other like adults! So, like a child, he jumped up in the air, let out a 'Yahoo!' and led England to the front door.

"Pacifica," he yelled out, "I'll be right back! Please don't get to upset with me please, I just cleaned my house up!" England raised an eyebrow at that last comment before being shoved out through the doorway. As America closed the door, Pacifica looked on sadly.

"I'm not upset with you..." she said quietly, "I'm just worried about you."

* * *

Outside of the house, America led England down the path that led to his house.

"Hey, America," England asked as casually as he could, "What did you mean by that?" America looked at him funny.

"By what?"

"When you said you didn't want her to get upset with you, because you just cleaned up your house?" England paused for a second. "And why would she be upset?"

"Oh!" exclaimed America, "Well, you see, when she gets mad or upset, winds carrying dust and dirt surround her, and the wind can get pretty strong. It once broke through the windows of my house and messed everything up inside, and I don't want it to happen again."

England was surprised to learn this, but decided that it confirmed that she must be one of them: a country, or at least, that she had the potential to be a country. America continued to answer his second question.

"As to why she would be upset..." America began, trying to think of a good way to explain it, or at least a good lie, "Well, I've told her about you and how awesome you are, but I think she just doesn't trust you because of how long you left me alone. And the fact that I was still just a kid when you left."

A look of guilt mixed with surprise spread across England's face, and he fumbled with his words.

"... Oh. Well, I... I'm sorry," sputtered England uncomfortably, and he clenched his fists in stress.

"It's alright, England," said America, "I understand that you're a busy country. All great countries are."

England and America looked at each other for a moment, but England, being the way he is, decided to drop the whole topic before it became too emotional. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to America.

"What's this?" he asked curiously as he unfolded it.

"It's a short rundown of everything that will be changing on this continent as a result of the war which just ended," England explained, "You'll want to take a look at it all, as most of it effects your economy and the like. Not necessarily for the worse, but you should look it over anyway."

America read through the brief little revelations as quick as he could, hoping he could make an intelligent comment on one of them and make himself sound cool, as he so often remembered England doing the same. But most of the things it said only referred to a small tax hike and a few other minor things. After he finished, he looked to England, who he imagined was waiting for some sort of specific response, like he was testing him.

"Oh, well, none of this such a big deal to me, I guess," was the only thing he could think to say. He imagined that he sounded pretty unimpressive, and England raised an eyebrow at him.

"You should read the other side," said England dully, crossing his arms as he did so. America blinked and turned the paper over, seeing a couple of other things. His eyes widened when he read them, and looked to England.

"This says... Canada is now under your rule?" he asked, not sure how he felt about it. England nodded his head once.

"Yes, that's right. Your relations with him should begin warming soon, so be sure to make a good impression the next time you see him," explained England sternly, so sternly in fact that America couldn't tell if he was even happy about it or not.

"Oh, well, I don't really remember much about him... but you're probably right..." said America as casually as he could, still trying to impress England. Then he read the last part of the paper.

"A... Royal Proclamation?" he asked as he read through it. England sighed slightly, not sure how America would react to the rest. He watched with some anticipation as America finished reading, readying himself for any reaction. America stared at the ground when he finished, clenching the paper tightly in his hand. The reaction England wasn't hoping for.

"It says... that I'm not to extend explore or extend my borders west of the Appalachians," said America solemnly, "Why, England? You said that we would tame the west together... but now..."

"I'm sorry America, but it's for the best," England tried to explain, "This isn't about you. It's about the Indians. Already, I'm dealing with an Indian uprising around the Great Lakes and Canada. They don't like the British, they like the French, but France ceded all of his claims on this continent to me and Spain. If you started poking your nose around those lands, it would just make things worse for both of us. Especially you!"

America's countenance was fallen, as he realized the desire of his people, and his heart, was about to be crushed. He felt that Pacifica was right when she said that England would try to hold him back, and tie him down. He began reading the paper again, to see everything that it said, all of the little bullet points and everything. England tried reading his face, seeing that he was obviously disappointed, but was unable to tell how he would react next. He decided to explain further.

"The proclamation creates a boundary line between my colonies on the Atlantic coast and the Indian lands west of the Appalachian Mountains," England began, "The boundary is not intended to be a permanent boundary between you and the Indians, but rather a temporary boundary that can be extended further west in an orderly, lawful manner."

At this, America through the crumpled paper on the ground, it rolled near to England's feet.

"This proclamation gives you a monopoly on west!" shouted America, angry. England looked straight into his eyes, not saying anything.

"You're forbidding my colonists from moving and settling beyond the boundary!" America continued, "Only your officials can purchase land now! What the hell is this?"

"Stop right there," England interjected, "Your colonists are my colonists. Don't forget that. With that in mind, it only makes sense that only I should be able to purchase land. If I allowed you keep doing it, it would cause to much trouble."

"You mean it would cause too much trouble for you," America countered, "because you can see that I'm growing stronger. You're afraid that you won't be able to manipulate me any longer."

At that, England snapped.

"It isn't like that! You may have grown a lot on the outside, but inside you must still be a child! Only a child would-"

"She was right all along!" interjected America, cutting England off before he could finish. England narrowed his eyes.

"You mean that girl, Pacifica?" England asked suspiciously. America nodded at him, which convinced England that he was right about something more going on between them.

"Pacifica... what does she have to do with anything?" asked England angrily, "Just who the hell is she? What kind of things has she been telling you?"

"She's just worried about me," answered America, who was only made angrier by England's outburst, "She knows that this is the first time you've seen me in over ten years, that the last time I saw you was when I was just a child! She knows that you left me alone for so long!"

England's anger suddenly subsided for a moment, feeling guilty about leaving him alone. It wasn't something that he wanted to do, but, it seemed that America thought that it was. And Pacifica probably thought the same thing, as far as England could figure. As he thought about this, America looked on at him, not saying any more, waiting for him to reply. To prove him and Pacifica wrong. He hoped that he and her were wrong. But England didn't say anything, much to America's disappointment.

"... So, it's all true, then, is it?" muttered America after a few more moments of silence, "This is just... a soft form of tyranny, England. I you really so afraid of losing control?"

England was shocked that he would say something like that, and his anger quickly boiled back up again, and they both began throwing insults at each other. This was not the reunion that they wanted, but the wills of their people, and their leadership, prevented them from a harmonious relationship from there on out.

"... Dammit, I'm leaving. There's no use arguing with a brat like you. You should know that things aren't so simple!" yelled England.

"I'm sure they aren't! But either way, it's clear that you don't give a damn about me or my freedom!" America yelled back.

"Argh! You can think what you want, but it won't change a thing!" exclaimed England, "Nothing you do will change anything! You're just some backwater group of colonies that I send my trash too! And that's all you ever were to me!"

They both suddenly became completely quiet. England didn't mean to say that, and he wished he could take the words back. But his pride wouldn't let him. He couldn't risk looking weak in front of his own colony. No, he had to be strong, and enforce British law, regardless of what he or anyone else thought about it. So, without saying anything more, he turned and headed back to America's house to retrieve his coat, and decided that he would just head back to his docked ship and head back for Great Britain. America remained silent as well, watching him head towards his house, but not asking why he was going there. Instead, he turned the opposite direction and started down the path to be by himself.

* * *

The sunlight beamed softly through the kitchen windows of America's house, falling softly on Pacifica's skin as she waited for the two men to return. As she lifted up a cup of tea to her lips, the front door flung open wildly and hit the wall with a loud thud, startling her and causing her to spill a little of the tea on her dress shirt. She got up from her chair at the kitchen table and made her way over to the door, finding England wrestling angrily with his coat, trying to put it on, but his anger was apparently screwing with his body's motor-functions. She stopped and stared at him until he finally managed to get the coat on, at which point he took notice of her.

"Oh, you're still here..." England said quietly, and Pacifica could barely hear him.

"Yea, I am... Where's Alfred?" she asked suspiciously, noticing how angry he was just a few seconds ago. England looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"... So you know his human name..." he observed a loud. Pacifica blinked at him, but before she could say anything, England continued speaking.

"Alfred... America is off dealing with his own business" he explained, half-lying, "Which you don't have any part of." Pacifica narrowed her eyes.

"Just what do you mean by that?" she asked, anger seething just below her skin.

"I don't want you to see America anymore. You're not right for him, to put it simply."

"What did you say?" Pacifica snapped, "You think you can decide that for yourself? That you can just run his life like he was your property? You have no idea what me and him have been through together! I've been his friend when you off fighting your wars, leaving him alone with no one!"

England just sneered.

"I can understand how he feels about this, but you have been filling his head with ideas about me that are just not true. Your ignorance concerning me and why I do what I do has been warping America's views of me, even though I think of him, and have tried to treat him as, my brother."

"What the hell? You can't lie to me like that and say that's how you think of him!" Pacifica cried, but England just turned to the open door and took a step outside. Without turning his head, he spoke one last time to her.

"I'm telling you that you don't understand me, or America. Stay out of his life."

With that, he made his way down the steps of the porch, and left for the nearby dock, where his transport ship was located. Pacifica watched him leave, too angry to say anything else. This was the first time she had ever met England, but, in her mind, he was exactly how she always pictured him as. To her, he was just as power-hungry and imperialistic as France or Spain, and just as heartless. But she couldn't know that England was hurting deeply, and his heart, which he definitely had, was aching harshly at the fact that what America had said about him being afraid of losing control was partly right.

And suddenly, he couldn't stand that part of himself.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Alright, so I made a small mistake in the last chapter. The Seven Years War actually started in 1754, not 1755. So basically everything that happened in the first chapter happened in 1754, not 1755 like it says. So, sorry for the historical error, I promise to research more carefully in the future. :-|

Anyways, most of the chapters will deal with the actual wild west, so don't worry about that. I just need to get through the American Revolution first and then the rest of the story will be westward-bound. The reason for this is I just want to establish America, England, and Pacifica's relationship with each other before they get into their adventures in the west (although England probably won't be making any more appearances after the next couple of chapters).

The Royal Proclamation that America and England started fighting over was the Royal Proclamation of 1763, which was issued by King George III following the Seven Years War. The gist of what it was about, at least concerning the American colonies, was more-or-less explained in the course of the chapter.

I should probably say now that I do like England, Spain, and France, and it's just Pacifica that thinks those bad things about them (which at this point in history, was probably partly right).

Also, I changed Pacifica's human name to Jessie Rae Cassidy, just because. It sounds wild west-ish, right?


End file.
